Last night was TWO’s first night sleeping without his Woombie. A Woombie is a zip-up swaddler that literally saved my sanity when colic was taking over my life. It’s really cute, in a Hannibal Lecter kind of way.
|Yes, those are my feet.|
I had an epiphany two days ago and realized that TWO will never learn how to self-soothe, and therefore sleep like the rock I wish he would, without access to his hands. So that means sleeping without the straightjacket. That scares the crap out of me.
It’s not the same as when ONE was three months old and we were growing out of the hellish colic phase. I could let ONE fuss and cry if needed — I didn’t jump out of bed at every little sound. But this time it’s different. I don’t sleep much. Because if TWO gets cranked up, and he can get to that point quickly, his big brother will wake up and that opens up a whole new problem I don’t care to deal with in the middle of the night.
Last night, at midnight, both kids were awake and Husband was snoring soundly through all of it. I finally chose to handle it by pointing a serious Mom finger at my older boy … I have a vague recollection of saying something like I don’t want to hear it/go back to sleep/you better keep your butt in bed … and apparently it scared him into quieting down. He never came out of his room. He whined and then went back to sleep.
Since when did I learn the Mom finger?
Probably when I decided to start using a switch.